Even the Best Plans Change
by DukeGirl2001
Summary: Takes place sometime after the last episode - Liz is working with Red to discover the truth about Tom. Liz and Red attend a function. A take-down really. How Liz feels about the situation. Eventual Lizzington.
1. Chapter 1

It's Saturday morning and the climate control system at the Post Office is switched off. The air close and sticky. Liz lifts her hair off her damp neck and pulls it into a loose ponytail.

Cooper clears his throat and motions for the small group gathered in front of him to quiet down. Liz scans the room. Ressler, Meera, Aram, and a few guys from the tech team. Cooper must not be anticipating a difficult takedown.

"We have confirmed Reddington's assertion that Stephen Arco will be in attendance at the officer's dinner tonight at the Plaza hotel." Cooper's voice reverberates through the enclosed space. "The event will commence at nineteen hundred hours. I have every expectation that this mission will be quiet and effective." He stops to make eye contact with each of them. "Get in early, establish a visual, wait for a changeover in security, then remove Arco from the premises without alerting the remainder of the invitees."

Liz's heart drops but she keeps her countenance collected. She had to attend tonight, of that she was sure. She had been chasing Stephen Arco since her days with the New York bureau. Fate, or Raymond Reddington rather, had brought Acro into her own backyard…of course she would be there to see him taken down. The atrocities he had facilitated…it would be beyond gratifying to see him in custody. She just wished the takedown could be someplace else. Anyplace else really. A back alley. A warehouse. A crowded park even. Anywhere but in a room full of swaggering men, celebratory men. Running their eyes over her. She shudders inwardly.

Keeping up appearances with Tom is taxing enough. Having to converse with him each day like nothing is any different, nothing has changed, the second guessing, the doubting. Having to share a bed with him. She feels grimy despite her shower less than an hour ago.

In her head Liz sees the evening unfold. A dark room pulsing with testosterone, fueled by alcohol and excessive egos. She would have to wear something revealing in order to fit in...everyone's eyes would be on her. Raking over her. Just like Tom. She shivered.

"Agent Keen?" Cooper is right in front of her and she straightens. "Agent Keen, are you ok with your assignment? You'll be undercover as a bartender. You'll need to arrive…"

His words register and she rushes to cut him off.

"I think this time it might be better if I went undercover as someone less conspicuous. I don't think Arco had a good look at me last year, but I would hate to guess wrong and have him blow my cover before we can take him down."

The words make sense to everyone in the room despite the fact that they are blatantly untrue. She's never been within a hundred miles of Arco. But they don't know that.

"Very well," Cooper nods, "What would you suggest then Keen?" He waits. Taps his foot.

"She can go with me. As my date." Ressler answers the senior agent. After everything that happened with Audrey, he has been somehow protective of Liz.

It's funny, she thinks. He's protective now and he doesn't even know about…about Tom. About the whole debacle that is her home life. How ironic.

"No can do Ressler," Cooper responds quickly. "We have you in place as the MC of the event, and we already told the organizers that you were coming alone. Agent Keen will have to find another cover."

"Then she can go with Reddington." She can see that Ressler doesn't want her to be alone. He's alone. He projects his loneliness onto her and tries to keep her from it. He's hurting still.

"Reddington's going to be there?" Anxiety stirs in her and she turns back towards Cooper, but the man in charge is focused on something behind her.

"Of course I will, Lizzie. What else do I have to do on a Saturday night in this fair district of yours?" Red's voice rumbles in from somewhere in the shadows of the stairwell.

She turns quickly, taking in his dark jacket, pants, vest. He sweeps the fedora off his head and continues towards the group. Leisurely pace as always. How does he do that? Liz wonders. Always so calm.

"And I would be _honored_ to have you as my plus one Lizzie." Red continues to speak to the group but his eyes are trained on her. "Fabulous idea Donald. Didn't know you had those in you, my friend."

He moves to stand beside Lizzie. She can feel him. The presence that is Raymond Reddington.

"Keen can be your business associate from Cincinnati." Ressler fleshes out his plan for keeping Liz – keeping Liz not alone.

"No, no, not in this situation," Cooper interjects. "If Reddington's going to be there, and lord knows I can't keep you out," he glares at Red – both knowing that it's the truth, "then Liz needs to be something less threatening. Less likely to draw attention to Reddington's presence. We don't want anyone to feel as if he brought a team. Backup. Might make Arco skittish if he is aware of another player in the room."

Red clears his throat. "Well Harold, she's already turned down my request to be my daughter. Shot that one down in Montreal." He shakes his head in mock disgust. "And the girlfriend from Ann Arbor didn't seem to sit well either." His tone is joking, but his eyes, trained directly on Liz, are kind despite his act of irritation. "What'll it be Lizzie? I can follow your lead this time." He gives her a small smile, and, was that a wink?

Liz blushes slightly remembering the way he held her while they danced. She leans down and feigns a cough to cover up the heat in her face.

"How about his wife? We don't think Arco knows Red, and he certainly isn't familiar enough to know if he is married." The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them and she hopes her face doesn't register the same level of surprise as those around her. She saw the shock register on Red's face before he quickly reset his features into an even gaze.

Cooper recovers first. In a hurry to get on with the logistics she is sure. "I concur Agent Keen. Are we set then? Let the mission commence at eighteen hundred hours. Dismissed team." He turns on his heal and strides back towards his office.

His _wife_? Where did _that_ come from? Doubt fills Liz's mind and then recedes as she thinks more closely about the situation. Everyone respects a wife, well, most everyone. Her cover would give her every reason to be at the dinner but no reason to be noticed. Perfect. She exhales a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

She turns to look at Red, gauge his reaction, but his face gives nothing away. He just stands there looking back at her, idly tapping his hat against his thigh. Her eyes zero in on the hat. It's slight movement back and forth. He's nervous. She's sure of it, her profiling instincts kicking in, but why?

It is confusing to see him like this. Here. In the capacity of the FBI. The long hours they were putting in together in their makeshift war room blurring with the hours spent at the Post Office. She is beginning to lose track of what they had discussed when and with whom.

She feels heavy, when had her life turned into this? She nudges the floor with her toe. He still hasn't said anything.

When she looks up again she can see that they are the only two left in the room. The last member of her team just exiting through the heavy door at the top of the stairs.

He still hasn't spoken. She didn't mean to upset him. Why did she say wife? Wife and family being at the heart of all of his…all of his doing whatever it was he was doing.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, her voice sounding tired even to her own ears. "I didn't mean to spring that on you. It's just…it's just…I didn't want them all," the implication of the men is there but not spoken, "looking at me. I already feel dirty. Tom…I can't…"

"Not to worry Lizzie." Now that he speaks his words are achingly kind.

The gentle side of Red will be her undoing, she swears it.

"I would gladly have you as my wife for the night." His voice is grave but there is something. A little twinkle in his eye. "But really Lizzie," he pauses and his mouth quirks up in a brief smile, "I should be the one asking you right?"

His humor runs over her and relief floods through her core. She didn't mean to upset him.

"Thank you." She says it quickly and then turns to walk back to her office.

Six steps up the stairs and reality begins to creep back in. Really, what has happened to her life that she is looking forward to playing the part of wife to one of the FBI's most wanted rather than returning home to a stranger playing the part of her husband. Tears well in her eyes before she can stop them.

She hurries forward and reaches for the door handle before feeling a strong hand settle on her shoulder.

Red turns her towards him. "It's really ok Lizzie. It's going to be alright." His eyes hold sympathy, sympathy and something she can't quite name.

Somehow she believes him and she lets the worry recede again as he continues to look at her.

"I'm worried about you." The concern in his eyes is real. "Have no doubt that we'll get to the bottom of this." He lowers his voice, the tone falling into the bottom registers. "We'll find out who he's working for in good time, but I…" he pauses as if searching for the right word and then changing his mind. "You look tired," he finishes.

"Why don't you come back to the hotel with me to get ready. I'll have Dembe meet us there with something for you to wear." His tone lightens and his face seems to light with genuine happiness. "After all, we can't have you looking like this," he gestures to her drab pantsuit, "_Mrs. Reddington_." He gives her a wink. "Come along now. No reason to stay here."

And with that he ushers her up the stairs and out to the waiting car.

Xxx

She sighs as she leans back into the seat. He's winning. Winning what? That she doesn't quite know. But he's definitely winning.

She lets her eyes drift close as the German engine growls and they pull out into traffic.

Sitting in the car next to him, feeling his presence beside her, is providing her more peace than she's felt in weeks. She needs him. She knows that deep down. In a place she only acknowledges late at night or after one glass of wine too many. She needs Red in more ways than finding out about her husband. She stops at that particular thought and keeps her eyes shut as they head to the hotel.

Xxx

Of course the dress he's picked for her is anything but subtle. She was thinking of something basic and black but the silver number hanging on the closet door is far from understated. She worries that it borders on risqué.

"Lizzie…" he has entered the room and she is sure he can see the displeasure on her face.

"You know that anyone would expect my wife to…" his voice resonates in the close quarters.

For some reason his words hit a nerve and her insecurity flares. She steps forward forcefully. "I know, _I know_ Red. Anyone would expect your wife not to look like me." It hurts but it's true. So much for her relaxed evening. She tries to look nice. Really she does. But with everything else going on, it just isn't a high priority. Any priority actually.

Hurt crosses his features as her comment registers. "Oh no Lizzie, that's not what I meant at all." He seems genuinely upset by her outburst and she pauses to look up at him.

"What I meant was…" he searches, "that anyone who…anyone who knew how much you mean to me would expect me to provide you with only the best…the best of everything." He finishes his thought and his phrasing confuses her. Somehow this staying in character was staying with him.

"Of course Red." She's in no mood to fight. It's lovely. Without looking back at him she heads into the bathroom to change.

Xxx

After stepping into the dress and carefully pulling it up over her body, Liz turns and manages to shimmy the zipper most of the way up her back. The dress feels…decadent. Yes, decadent is the best word. Smooth and sumptuous. It fits her like a glove but is strangely giving. Comfortable.

She turns towards the encased mirror and her breath catches in her throat.

She looks…she looks good. The girl staring back at her is definitely not the Elizabeth Keen that greets her in the bathroom mirror every morning. This woman is sophisticated. Classy. Beautiful even…Liz sees a small smile turn up the edges of her lips. She looks…pretty. Her breath catches again. He _wanted_ her to feel beautiful when he sent for this dress. It was deliberate. Wanted her to feel special. Sometimes she... She turns and reaches to unlock the door.

Xxx

Red reclines in one of the deep leather chairs in the living area. He knows he should be thinking about the evening ahead, about the mission, but his thoughts, like always, stray to her.

She had always been a little bit lost. That much he had long suspected and confirmed the moment he rolled out of the box and laid eyes on her. Carefully concealed, but definitely lost. Searching for answers to questions she didn't even know.

He hadn't meant to take her hand that first time in the park. Months ago now. He needed her alive then. Still does. Alive and in one piece in order to execute his master plan. Exorcise his demons. But she had been so broken. And all of his warnings about her husband, and they really were warnings, he needed her in one piece after all, had somehow made her seem fragile and strong at the same time and he had reached over and taken her smaller hand in his. Fragile and strong. Her hand. Lizzie. It had been the downfall of the great plan. Seeing her as human. Letting his emotions rise up from their dormant state. He didn't know he even had it in him anymore…

The bathroom lock clicks free and the door swings open. Red's heart rate jumps into the upper register at the sight of her but he manages to keep his face calm. Blank.

"Lizzie," he says it slowly, the smile creeping out despite himself. "You look…radiant." A familiar expression of sentiment for him but true. So true.

"Thank you." Her simple answer and faint blush out of character and endearing somehow.

"Shall we?" he says, reaching for her arm.

"I just need my shoes."

She turns and walks to the side of the bedroom.

_Best laid plans_ he thinks, heading towards her and towards the door.

At some point he will consider how off track this has become. How much his plans have changed. How much he needed her, to avenge his adversaries, to take them down. How that has turned into just need. He needs her somehow. Just her. To make him whole. But not tonight. Tonight he'll just be the husband she needs in the face of the one she has.

Xxx

_So…I feel like this is a bit rough, but I wasn't sure when I would have time to work on it again and wanted to go ahead and post it…please let me know what you think! Right now I'm thinking maybe a few chapters? Thoughts?_


	2. Chapter 2

The air outside the residence is just beginning to turn cold and she rubs her hands up and down her arms briskly to ward off the chill. Her selected ensemble hadn't included a coat. She wishes now that she had the foresight to carry her standard black work jacket out to the car with her. She could have worn it as far as the event anyway.

Red walks several steps ahead of her and stops when he reaches the end of the brick walkway. Dembe pulls the dark sedan to the curb and Red starts to reach for the handle before turning back to face her.

"You'll need this," he says, handing her a box and then turning back and opening the door.

She slides in next to him and uses her thumb to open the top of the velvet box, holding it up to the fading daylight. Her breath catches and for reasons she can't explain, she feels as if she might start to cry. She looks at him and sees that he is watching her intently.

Nestled down safely in the dark box lies a simple platinum band. Elegant and beautiful in the best ways. She slips it from the cushioned holder and slides it onto her ring finger. It fits perfectly. Like it's supposed to be there.

"It fits?" Red's voice holds a hint of gruffness and he nods and she sees him swallow when she raises her hand and he sees the ring on her finger.

"Yes," she responds softly. Their eyes meeting over the center of the backseat and something, some charge, fills the space. He seems pleased with her reaction.

"There's this too." And he tosses over another box. Diffusing whatever…whatever thing was there.

She opens the larger box and sits back in the seat involuntarily. The diamond inside is huge and screams new money. It's absolutely not something she could imagine Red selecting. She hesitates before sliding it on her ring finger above the elegant band. The diamond catches the light and rainbows dot the ceiling of the car.

She looks up at him questioningly.

"You had to have something for show," he waves his hand in the air as if to dismiss her question. She doesn't miss his use of the singular and glances back down at the simple band, the emotion back again, catching in her chest. Not ready to address it yet.

She moves her gaze back to the ostentatious ring. "Did you find this in a cracker jack box, Red?" She jokes and looks meaningfully at the flashing diamond to cover up the emotion still present in the undercurrent of the car.

"No, but close, Dembe got it at the mall." He says the word _mall_ with considerable distaste. "He thought it fit with your cover." She tries to imagine Dembe, black fatigues neatly pressed, walking into a mall. She can't do it.

"It's certainly…" she searches for the right word. _The Real Housewives_ come to mind and she looks up at the ceiling. She can feel him lean towards her side of the car.

"Lizzie," his tone lower now, flirting with seductive, "any man we meet tonight is going to take one look at you in that dress and leap to conclusions about why you married me." He smiles a predatory smile and runs his eyes over her seated body.

Two can play at this game, she thinks, surprised at how relaxed she feels already. "Your warm demeanor?" She guesses, mirth bubbling up in her voice.

He shakes his head back and forth slowly, his eyes never leaving her. "Money." He answers his own question. "And why I married you – "

"I'm good in bed." She says it bluntly. The second time today words have popped out of her mouth on their on volition. She feels her cheeks burn and she turns away. What has gotten into her today?

He straightens back into his seat, "well now Lizzie, that doesn't surprise me in the least…" He barks a laugh and they head out into the evening.

Xxx

The melodic hum of the engine, coupled with the tightly engineered interior, keep the traffic noise at bay. Liz watches out the window as a silent semi truck heads in the opposite direction, a backhoe chained down to its bed. A group of motorcycles, flags flying in the wind. No sounds. Just the muffled vibration in the tan leather seat. Her jovial mood from a half hour earlier now turned melancholy.

The silence – it's like her marriage to Tom. All the pieces of a proper union accounted for, but still missing some crucial component, some spark. There was never any noise. Just a lot of polite conversation and shared dinners, TV on the couch. Comfortable coexistence. Until the ground fell out from under her…Tom, why didn't she see it? How had she believed that he loved her? A quiet voice inside whispers _desperation, he wanted her, he found her_…but she pushes it away.

She glances at Red across the seat. His head is turned to the opposite window and she leaves him be.

Her marriage, Tom, it never became what she had dreamed of in her single years. Her earliest memories of Sam reading to her from a tattered collection of poetry. The words and verses still engrained in her mind and playing through her day to day. As a child, a teenager, and later, she had imagined marriage in those terms. Love, happiness, and the passion that came between. It was never like that with Tom. Always a sham, she just didn't see it.

She twists the platinum band around her finger. It's cool weight heavy and delicate at the same time. It's not at all like the ring Tom gave her, claiming it had been his mother's, this one is different somehow – like it was made just for her.

She looks over at Red again but his eyes are closed now and his head rests against the seat. She reaches to touch his shoulder, wake him up, but pulls her hand away at the last second. Lets him be.

Xxx

Marriage had suited Red, at least as he had existed back then. The wife, the daughter, balancing him out somehow. Bringing a quiet peace to his existence. Looking back, it wasn't the big things – the wedding, the vacations, the first home – those were not what he missed the most. It was the little things – the way she ran her fingers through his hair, arranged his tie, fussed over his appearance. The way she asked about his day. Conversations over a glass of wine as their daughter slept upstairs. The lack of being alone.

Afterwards, of course, he had learned of her betrayal, and all of those happy memories had turned black and rotten. His daughter the only one he longed for now, the anger at his wife's deception long since overtaken any period of mourning. But sometimes, the having of a wife – at least as it had played out in those early days – he missed it.

Looking across the seat he sees Liz staring out her window. Not making a sound. Just staring through the glass as the fields, then trees, then buildings passed buy. Her hand idly playing with the ring he gave her, turning it this way and that. He expected her to be nervous about tonight, but upon further assessment, her face parlays sadness. It's been a lot lately, he knows this. Is conflicted about his role in all of it.

That Tom has put Lizzie in the same position he was once in, that part he didn't plan, and he hates it for her. Not sure if it is preferable to learn of the deceit in the present or have the world crash down after the person is already gone. Neither way bodes well for the one left to ever trust again.

He inhales deeply and then lets the breath go. The window fogging momentarily before clearing. He sees the tall buildings of downtown rising up in front of them. They are almost there.

…but somehow she trusts him, his thoughts going right back to her. Despite it all. And he trusts her. How that all happened he's not quite sure. Fate maybe. Desperation. Something else playing around the edges, not quite tangible and not yet named.

He reaches over to still her hand that's idly turning the ring around her finger.

"Penny for your thoughts Lizzie?" His voice softened in the plush interior of the sedan. "You look…uncertain." The words so true.

She doesn't respond. He's not sure if she even heard him. Her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

He keeps his hand over hers and then moves to intertwine his rough fingers with her smooth ones. His hand visible to his gaze when he looks down at their hands. Together.

He thought it would be unsettling. Seeing a band on his finger. It had been so many years after all. It's a much nicer ring than he had before, when he was really married, that one was a fake. Military pay grades and all. But somehow this titanium ring encircling his finger seems to settle him. Quiet the dark undercurrent, the roar that courses through him day and night. The unease. Always looking over his shoulder. The band looks like it belongs on his finger. On his hand. His hand in hers. Together.

Exhaling, he turns away. They have one more stop to make before the evening begins.

Xxx

Dembe pulls up to a dilapidated barbeque joint just outside the city limits. The exterior paint peels down forlornly, leaving gaps of gray cinderblock exposed to the headlights of passing cars. A neon sign, partially lit, reads Moe's BBQ. Liz has driven past the venue many times when going and coming from the district, but has never given it a second thought. She looks questioningly over at Red, her thoughts back in the present, and she is surprised at how much just focusing on him lifts her spirits.

"I'll tell you Lizzie, after spending some down south last year." She infers that he means in hiding, remembering his case file and a deal with some backwoods arms smugglers gone bad. "I developed a taste for barbeque – and try as I might I haven't found anything up here that compares to the local fare in rural Georgia. But this comes close…Moe knows his stuff."

Red proceeds to exit the car, pulling her along by the hand.

"Plus," he says, walking close to her without any parts of their bodies touching. "You could use some practice being my wife." His eyes twinkle in the dark. "Right now a five year old could blow your cover."

He wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her close as they enter the building, "now that's better, Mrs. Reddington, are you hungry for some ribs? The food's never any good at these fancy affairs, and I would hate for you to arrive hungry."

He leans a little closer as they get in line. Breathes the scent of her in and exhales it out slowly. His breath tickling her skin. "How's this?" He asks. "Is it too much?"

_No, no, no_, she wants to scream. It's perfect. Strangely, absolutely perfect. "Fine," she responds and they reach the front of the line.

Xxx

**So I'm not sure exactly where this is going…I started writing chapter two and ended up with 4,000 words and no ending. So…I decided to split it up and go ahead and post this much…anyway, let me know what you think! Comments make my day :)**


	3. Chapter 3

When they finally arrive at the event, the line of cars circles the block, and the valets move swiftly to keep traffic moving. The ground lights break up the dark façade of the structure, and the warm glow of the interior is visible from the open double doors. Several well dressed men mill around out front, cell phones to their ears and cigars to their lips.

The car comes to a stop directly in front of the entrance. Dembe swings the rear door open wide and hands Liz out onto the sidewalk. Red moves to quickly skirt the back of the car and takes her arm. He looks down at her slender shoulder pressed against his charcoal suit sleeve and realizes that she's shivering. Just the tiniest bit. He moves her closer to his side.

Red glances over at the parking attendant and notes that it is the woman on his arm, not the expensive black sedan for which he holds the keys, that has the young worker's attention. The uniformed man's gaze follows Liz and he catches Red's eye and gives him an appreciative nod. 'Well done,' his thoughts seem to say, and Red feels his insides shift. He's had beautiful women on his arm before, hell, sometimes on both arms, but tonight tops any of that.

Still maintaining their forward progress up the paved walk, he leans over and speaks softly into her ear, "Lizzie, I am thinking tonight is just what you need," while thinking that maybe this is exactly what he needs.

She doesn't respond to his words but the look on her face seems to lighten. The lines at the corners of her eyes relaxing. He can feel her let her breath out, long and slow, his hand on her back tracking its progress. She's more relaxed now. More at ease.

He takes her arm and they enter the building together.

Xxx

The room teams with people and music pulses through the entry hall as they make their way up to the registration table. A striking brunette with darkened eyes and lacquered nails looks up expectantly as Red rests his hat next to a row of folded programs. "Yes," she says to him, her face inviting. Available.

"Well, it seems that we have already found the party in full swing tonight," Red purrs, all charm, and pauses for a minute and leans down to read the woman's nametag, "Veronica." He shoots her a cool smile and continues, "I believe my assistant responded to your kind invitation only just today so it may not be on your list – the name's Harris. James Harris." He peers over the top of her head scanning the printed list of names. Liz feels the hand at her back tighten and she moves towards him reflexively.

Her voluntary movement catches him off guard and he darts his eyes over to her and for the smallest fraction of a second she sees through the act. Not the James Harris act. The Raymond Reddington one. And her pulse jumps.

"Oh, no, here you are Mr. Harris," Veronica chirps, her eyes staying on Red until the last possible second. "And you must be –"

"My wife. Elizabeth." Red finishes for her and the hand pressing into her back relaxes. She's surprised at his apparent ease. It must be hard for him to say the word out loud to someone else. Wife. It's been a long time for him.

"Oh yes! Very well then. Coat check is to your right. Bar to the left." Veronica dismisses them quickly once it is clear that Red is already spoken for. "Hope you have a great evening!"

Xxx

They reach their seats right before the formal remarks are scheduled to start. He moves the chair away from the table for her and then pushes it back in once she's settled. It's nice to be taken care of this way, she thinks. She shoots him appreciative smile and the corners of his mouth lift before he turns and sits down next to her. His arm already finding its way to the back of her chair. His hand brushing her shoulders.

The lights dim and Ressler steps up to the podium. She stifles a giggle, understands why they're called monkey suits now. Ressler looks anything but at ease in a tuxedo. "Welcome…" he begins his introductory remarks, his words resonant and sure despite the fact he is not an officer at all, not a public speaker, just an agent. She sees him scan the room. The movement friendly but meaningful to her. They haven't yet located the target.

The hand on the back of the chair moves to her shoulders and starts drawing lazy circles over her skin. "Relax Lizzie," his voice close in the dark. "You're just an observer tonight. Let them be." He straightens back into the chair but the hand remains. Tracing the bones of her neck. Softly.

Xxx

Ressler steps down from the podium and a uniformed man steps up. The applause rising up before settling down. The man thanks the room and begins to speak.

Liz lets her attention wander and she scans the room for any sign of her team. She thinks she sees Meera walking towards the side exit, but she isn't sure. The lights are dim and it's hard to see.

"Would either of you care for a drink?" The waiter stoops behind them, not wanting to obscure anyone's view. "We have a full bar and –"

"Scotch neat and Merlot for the lady." Red answers him without missing a beat. She smiles at him. Half surprised he didn't try for the aviation cocktail again. "You're welcome," he says, and she realizes that she's never told him she prefers red wine to white. He just knows.

Xxx

"And who are you," the guest to his left leans in and questions Red.

"James Harris. Pittsburg." Red responds, as if it means anything. As if he's from Pittsburg. Atrocious city if you asked him.

The older man nods, seemingly satisfied with Red's response. "And she would be –" the man starts, his eyes turning to Liz.

"My wife." Red answers, leaning over to kiss her hair, and the smile overtaking his face is genuine.

Xxx

She strains her neck to catch another glimpse of Meera. All members of her team now conspicuously absent from the main room. She twists in her seat to get a better view of the back in of the venue. Scanning from one corner to the other she sees nothing.

"Easy Lizzie…" Red hisses in her ear.

She looks back over at him and is surprised to see her hand resting on his thigh. She must have braced herself when she turned to look at the back of the room.

"Lizzie…" he says her name again and her gaze travels up to meet his eyes.

He is looking at her with unmasked desire tinged with a bit of panic.

"Now, now sweetheart," his tone easing noticeably with the removal of her hand. "If you would like to continue that train of thought in private, I would certainly welcome the invitation, but I am thinking this is neither the time nor the place." His smile forced and she notices they have captured the attention of the other guests dining at their table.

"Later babe," she shoots back at him. Kissing him demurely on the cheek as the other patrons look on. She swears she sees a blush start to creep up his neck but it's gone before it started.

The man should win an Oscar, the things he is doing to her insides. My goodness.

Xxx

Their performance seems to be going over well. So far three different individuals have tried to enter into business deals with Red, rather James, and not a one of them has been anything but exceedingly courteous to her.

Ressler and the team have disappeared from the room, which means that Arco must be in custody. No one the wiser.

She's danced twice, something she hasn't done in so long – with the exception of that time with Red. In the embassy. But she doesn't think that counts since her life was potentially on the line and she didn't get to enjoy it.

She likes this, maybe too much, this being her with him. She feels protected. The noise and problems of real life safely trapped outside the bubble they've constructed tonight. She's not sure she wants to go back. Letting her gaze travel around the room she wonders if maybe she can just stay, stay in the moment…and then she sees him. Stephen Arco looking back at her. His eyes cold and searching…trying to place her. It appears the team is merely following him but she knows better. His steps a bit forced.

"Red…" she whispers urgently. As loudly as she can without drawing any attention. Pressing herself against his front so her face is hidden from view. "Directly behind me, by the exit." She feels Red shift slightly for a better look.

"Oh yes Lizzie, I do see our friend," he says back to her, his voice a normal volume, but she doesn't miss the way he's turned her further. Puts his body between Arco's and hers. A minute ticks by slowly, slowly, his hand rubbing calm circles on her back. She notices the glances people are giving them as she lifts her face from his shoulder. "And it seems Donald has finally caught up with your old pal. Looks like they are going outside to have a smoke and catch up a bit." She feels him relax against her.

Suddenly aware of the small spectacle they have created, she lifts her head from his shoulder and gives him a sheepish look. "Sorry…" she says, but doesn't mean it. Her voice trails off.

"I'm not," he says softly, the eyes looking down on her soft and kind. "He's gone." He smiles briefly and then nods at the men watching them. "Just a dizzy spell," he says, as if to explain their tight embrace. "She's fine now." But is she?

Xxx

The evening has turned into night and it is time for them to depart. Dembe pulling the car around while the same young valet looks on at them from behind his stand.

"Why is he staring at us?" Liz turns sideways and looks up at Red. Their faces close in the dark.

Red eyes twinkle and he smiles knowingly, "he's waiting for the show." Her eyes widen and she looks so innocent, so beautiful he loses track of where he's standing.

"Ohh…," she nods and a grin creeps onto her face. Her eyes never leaving his. "I guess I'm doing ok then…" She rubs his arm playfully.

"Oh yes, I'd say you're doing very well." He responds, his voice low and smooth.

She leans in closer. Shoots the valet a pointed look. Seriously, what has gotten into her tonight? Her thought interrupted by Red moving in –

"Lizzie," he growls her name in her ear. The timbre just above a whisper. She can feel his breath on his skin and goosebumps rise on the flesh of her neck.

"Lizzie," he says it now, confirming that he has her attention.

She leans into him just a bit more. Moves the side of her face closer to his.

"I'm going to kiss you now." It's no so much a request as a gentle warning.

She turns towards him and sees that his eyes are dark. Trained right on her. For someone paying so much attention to the ins and outs of the mission she seems to have captured his focus in its entirety right now. He looks at her. Mouth closed tightly. Not moving except for the rapid blinking of his eyes. Is he waiting for permission she wonders?

He has been so good at this tonight. His performance even convincing her at times. They way he looked at her like she hung the moon. Like there was no one else in the room. The way his hand seemed to always make its way to her lower back. Like it belonged there. Like the decision to touch her wasn't even a conscious one on his part. His arm always at the back of her chair. Pulling her towards him. A fraction of an inch. Then another. He's done his part. She'll do this for him.

Reaching her hands up she touches the sides of his face. The smoothness of his skin only slightly roughened by a shadow of stubble. She holds his face there, looks at him. Looks at his eyes and tries to differentiate between Raymond Reddington the man and Raymond Redding the husband he is playing tonight. She can't see it. Can't see the divide.

Standing up on her tippy toes, her heels coming up slightly from the soles of her shoes, she pulls him down to her. His skin warm to her touch. She's ready to kiss him, a chaste kiss, a thank you kiss, then she feels his lips on hers. Warm and soft and ready. And he_ kisses_ her. Soundly. Not a thank you kiss. Not a chaste kiss. A real kiss.

And she forgets everything else around her.

Xxx

Much later she'll move to take the band off her finger. Running the smooth coolness of the metal around her thumb, she'll detect an imperfection and hold it to the light for further inspection. _(I carry it in my heart), _the engraved words read. And she stops moving. The tears welling in her eyes.

Xxx

**I can't seem to help myself – everything turns into fluff! Comments always appreciated!**


End file.
